


The Jailbird

by foxmulder_whereartthou



Category: Original Work
Genre: Bird/Human Hybrids, Birds, Escape, Ficlet, Overly descriptive descriptions, POV Second Person, Prison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2021-01-04 02:02:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21189728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxmulder_whereartthou/pseuds/foxmulder_whereartthou
Summary: Are you prepared to finally break free and ascend upon the heavens?





	The Jailbird

Twilight bathes the cage in moonlight, it’s silver bars tarnished by dirt and age and the open air. You clutch feebly at them, destined to sit upon the perch and swing back and forth for eternity. Mud and feathers and god knows what else cake the floor, so much so you can’t even see the bottom anymore. 

But tonight - tonight is special. Tonight, the heavens will open and so will the bars of your prison, finally allowing you to escape into the dead of night, your captors none the wiser. You cannot say when or how you gained this knowledge, but there’s a deep instinctual throb within your bones and your blood, screaming at you that it is tonight.

The only problem with this is that; that being, buried deep within you, howling it’s lungs out, clearly doesn’t bother to mention the exact time.

So you wait in horrible, unadulterated anticipation for that final, resolute moment where the sky and the stars and the planets will crack in two and you will be able to sidle your way through the crevice into the great beyond. You almost drop off, but the moon is high and ever so watchful, it’s gleaming, luminescent eyes never wavering from your stifling aviary. 

Hiding your face in the crook of your arm, you hear something. Not a rustle or a screech from the forest, but something higher; something louder; something weighty and omnipotent and eminently powerful. A harsh storm whips up in no time, merging the trees and bushes and the tall, tall grass of the woods into a single stretched line of beige and green, made one by forces beyond your control.

The beams of your enclosure have begun to crack and your grin expands, spreading from ear to ear like butter on bread. It finally bursts; the roof of the birdcage open to the gloomy yet controlling winds of the night.

Not quite free but the wardens of the ever-growing tempest beckoning you to the exit, you stand atop your perch, defiant and unrestrained, unshackled, untethered. The gale blows your feathers to full attention and you, the jailbird, spread your wings, radiantly pearlescent, fleeing your prison for good.


End file.
